


Hit The Button or Self-Destruct

by newbie93



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Post-Finale Fic, Season 2 spoilers, Some mission violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-30 22:23:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3954004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newbie93/pseuds/newbie93
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A post S2 finale drabble that came out of nowhere and is just a random take on the slew of possibilities that SOS Pt2 left us with.</p><p>***AKA: SEASON 2 FINALE SPOILERS AHEAD, PROBABLY SHOULDN'T BE READ IF YOU'VE YET TO SEE THE S2 FINALE***</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For the record, I hope that this ISN'T how this particular plot-line is approached in canon. I very much want the actual show to have a Jemma-centric approach to a Jemma-centric plot, but my mind just went into a Fitz-centric headspace so I ran with it.

He isn’t there when she finally comes back. 

Not in the room, not in the Playground, not even in the same damn country. 

Instead, he’s getting his ass handed to him on an Op somewhere in South America that’s already left him with a lot less blood and an incredibly bruised body. 

Surprisingly, the bullet to the shoulder hurt a hell of a lot less than whatever the Inhuman had managed to do to his insides. He’s not sure how many ribs are broken, but the next punch the other man lands on his torso definitely adds another fracture to his growing list of injuries. 

He’s lasted far longer than he should have, stayed past the point where he’d usually tap out and frantically call for back up, and there’s a brief moment of pride at the fact that he’s still fighting. 

For some reason, today had been different. 

His usually simmering rage had consumed him the moment he’d put on his tactical gear and he’d quickly decided that this would be it. This would be the day where he’d go toe-to-toe alone or die trying. 

He doesn’t let himself think about the small part of him that had hoped he’d fail when he’d made the decision. 

Such thoughts hadn’t plagued him for awhile but… for one reason or another, this mission had brought forth such despondency that he likely would have left the op crippled even if he _hadn’t_ been on the receiving end of the sharp jabs of the Inhuman. 

This was a dead end like all the others they’ve come across over the past few months and Fitz knew it the second he’d gotten a good look at who they were dealing with. 

The Inhuman was powerful, sure, but couldn’t be any older than him. He was reckless and dangerous, but likely had no knowledge about any past legends of Inhumans and Kree aliens that would actually help SHIELD figure out what the hell to do about the hulking mass sitting locked away at the base. 

The next punch is one that sends him sprawling across the floor and using his one good arm, seemingly the _only_ good bone in his body, to drag himself to the wall and flip his torso around so his back is supported by the structure behind him. His legs are sticking out uselessly in front of him, blood steadily streaming down his arm from the gaping bullet hole, and internal organs begging for him to stop. To _finally_ call for backup or just give up completely and let the pain end. 

He wonders briefly whether there’s really any point in getting out of this alive. 

It’s been 7 months since he first watched the security footage that had plagued him with nightmares and guilt every day since. 

7 months since Jemma Simmons had been taken from his life without a trace. 

7 months since he’d felt anything other than complete and utter misery. 

The small semblance of hope that he’d had in the first week of her being taken had dissipated almost immediately. He’d tried to put on a brave face for the others, to spout nonsensical science jargon at Skye that he knew wouldn’t make sense to her since it didn’t even make sense to him; to lie to Coulson about the possible internal structure of the rock; to assure May during their new training sessions that he wasn’t letting his anger and fear distract him. 

He’s not sure if anyone had _actually_ believed his false optimism, but at the very least nobody questioned him about it. He’d spent two months successfully avoiding any real discussion of himself until Skye caught him sitting miserably in his bunk with a bottle of pills he hadn’t needed in nearly half a year placed teasingly in front of him. 

The soft, “Oh Fitz,” that she’d released upon seeing him had caused the sobs to break free and he’d spent the entire night curled up in Skye’s lap crying his eyes out and trying to explain that a part of him was missing while struggling to breathe. 

Now he’s struggling to breathe for a completely different reason, namely that a rib had likely punctured a lung during the particularly solid kick that the Inhuman had landed on his torso, and he’s warring with himself about what to do and which path to take. 

It’s a weird ultimatum for him: call for help and live an empty life, or sit here in defeat and be taken away from the world much like Jemma had been taken away from him. 

Neither option sounds particularly appealing to him if he’s being honest. 

He fumbles with the watch on his wrist before flicking the small button on the side that he was supposed to have pressed the moment the team had stepped through the building. All field agents were required to wear the small devices now since they monitor even the slightest change in vitals, sending them directly to both the mobile unit as well as HQ to ensure each agent’s safety. 

The Inhuman lands another kick that leaves Fitz wheezing and he crumples forward, which ends up providing him with the perfect opportunity to turn on the comms that he had foolishly shut off upon splitting up with the others. 

He hears them crackle to life and grunts in pain when the Inhuman’s foot once again makes contact with his torso. The tears are coming down fast now and Fitz feels his entire body protesting his decision to come on this mission at all. 

“Fitz? _FITZ?!_ Is that you?!” 

He lets out a garbled, “ _Skye,_ ” in response and closes his eyes as he hears her begin to shout for the others to get his location. 

“Fitz, god what is _wrong_ with you?! You can’t just go dark like that!” 

He hears the combination of anger and worry in her voice but can’t focus much on anything other than the pain that has spread throughout his body. He can only manage enough breath for one short word at a time so he decides to focus on the important ones that might make the gravity of the situation a bit more apparent to Skye and the rest of the team. 

“Need… help… Inhuman… shot… bleeding…” 

He hears her sharp intake of breath and yelled order of, “ _Get me his damn location_ ,” and tries to concentrate on getting as much air into his lungs as he can between each of the sharp jabs that his opponent is landing on him. His eyes fly open when the other man’s foot stomps down on his leg, easily snapping the bone and causing a strangled cry to come out of his lips. 

He’s not really sure why the Inhuman is still here, still wailing on him with a force that is, well, _inhuman_. He’s no longer putting up any sort of fight and, if he were in the other man’s shoes, he would have considered escaping before back up arrives to be the better option over beating an already broken man. 

Skye is talking in his ear, no doubt trying to keep him conscious, and her steady stream of chatter is the only thing that’s keeping him in reality and preventing him from shutting his eyes and escaping. Naturally, his acceptance of his fact means that Skye immediately _stops_ talking, growing silent as she listens to voices that are just faint murmurs to Fitz. 

He hears the sharp inhalation of breath that is followed by what _sounds_ like a choked sob and wonders if it’s Skye or if the sound is actually coming from him. His mind wanders at this thought and he feels his limbs relax as he closes his eyes again and accepts the pain that is creeping along his body. 

Skye’s repeated, “Oh my god,” echoes in his ear but he can’t hear whatever it is that’s causing his friend to hyperventilate on the other end of the comms. 

“Fitz…” 

He passes out, falling slowly into unconsciousness, and isn’t sure if it’s because of the searing pain that is permeating its way through his body or the crackling words that Skye is saying in his earpiece. 

“Oh my god… Fitz… Fitz she’s _back_. FITZ, JEMMA’S BACK. SHE’S BACK AT THE PLAYGROUND. FITZ? WHERE ARE YOU? _FITZ?!”_


	2. Chapter 2

He comes to on the Quinjet and immediately begins struggling against the restraints before a scream of pain rips its way through his throat. 

In the next moment Skye’s tear-filled eyes are hovering in his vision and she’s grasping his hand while whispering soothing words. “We’re fifteen minutes out Fitz. We’re almost home. Hang in there okay?” 

He whimpers slightly as the pain comes rushing back to him. The oxygen mask over his face his helping slightly but he feels himself slipping back into unconsciousness as Skye’s thumb rubs circles on what is likely the only bit of his flesh that isn’t covered in blood. He almost drifts off when his mind replays the last words he’d heard in the abandoned warehouse and his eyes fly open at the memory. 

He stares at Skye as best he can, using all of his energy to grip her hand, and silently begs her to tell him that what he’d heard was real, that it wasn’t a cruel hallucination that his mind was using to toy with him. 

She seems to understand his silent question because the tears in her eyes splash down on his face and she moves the hand that isn’t tightly gripped in his to cover her mouth. She nods shakily down at him and Fitz feels his own eyes well up with tears before they roll back into his head and he loses consciousness again. 

-O- 

The rough landing of the Quinjet jolts Fitz awake again and, when the cargo door opens, he’s met with shouts and commands that he can’t make sense of. There’s still something warm in his hand and, as the gurney he’s laying on is quickly wheeled off the plane and into the base, he hears Skye’s voice above the rest and knows that his friend is still by his side. 

He blinks dazedly as the scenery shifts from the plane bay to the hallway separating the hangar from the actual base, and he hears the clicking of locks and whirring of doors as they open and people push him through the maze of hallways. The gurney rolls over a small bump that has him crying out in anguish and turning his head to cough. He can taste the blood in his throat and knows it’s not in his imagination when Skye gasps sharply and the gurney suddenly picks up speed. 

Her grip on his hand tightens and he’s grateful for her presence as he struggles to remain conscious and _hopefully_ make her worry a little less. He doesn’t think it’s working because he can hear her constant sniffles over the din of the shouts of the other agents, yelling instructions down the hallway and demanding people to get out of the way. 

Suddenly her hand loosens before pulling away completely and he hears her gasp beside him before letting out a small sob that’s muffled by her fists. His eyes try to flit over in her direction but she’s no longer in his line of sight and he gives up searching for her when he becomes increasingly aware of the fact that every part of his body is in pain. 

A fog is slowly working its way over him and he blinks wearily as he tries to focus his mind on what he _can_ see and hear. There are a few people hovering over him as they tug the gurney across the room but he can neither see nor hear Skye anymore, which he finds mildly concerning. He _thinks_ he spots her standing on the other side of the room, back facing him, but the team of agents and doctors hoist him up and shift him from the gurney to the medical table that was set up before his arrival and Fitz can’t stop the agonized scream that leaves him during the transfer. 

Whatever low-grade pain meds he’d been given to knock him out on the flight over had long since left his body and he’s now able to feel every injury he’d been dealt. His shoulder is on fire, his entire torso is throbbing in a roaring ache, and his leg feels as though a thousand blades are slowly piercing the skin and sawing at the bone beneath. 

The people around him begin the careful task of removing his tactical gear and each un-velcroing of the material causes another strangled shout to rip from his mouth. The nameless figures roll him over slightly and he catches sight of Skye staring at him in tears that he knows mirror the ones that are steadily falling from his own eyes. Her hands are covering her mouth in horror as he yelps when the clothing is tugged off of him and his battered skin becomes visible. He knows that he’s covered in blood and bruises and is certain he looks as bad as he thinks he does when Skye’s eyes widen and a small whimper leaves her mouth. 

There’s slight movement behind Skye that catches his eye but the doctors roll him onto his back again and he quickly closes his eyes at the pain that shoots through his body at the motion. 

“Fitz? _Fitz!”_

He thinks he might be dreaming when he hears the desperate shout of the English accent that had begun to fade from his memory and shifts his head in the direction of the sound that he’s certain he’s imagining. He inhales as sharply as he can, considering his current physical state, when he sees a blurry figure pounding on the walls of the same quarantine enclosure that Skye had been locked in so long ago. 

He blinks wearily at the sight and feels the hot tears stream down his face when his eyes clear long enough to for him to make out every detail of _Jemma._  

She’s pressed against the glass wall of the small room, dressed in SHIELD-issued sweats and looking every bit as beautiful as Fitz remembers. She’s a bit paler, maybe a few pounds lighter than the last time he’d seen her, and Fitz can spot the haunted look that’s hidden behind her outward worry, but she’s _alive_ and she’s _here_ and Fitz’s fingers twitch at the sight. 

His brief moment of happiness flies away when someone jostles his mangled leg and his entire body tenses with the anguished yell that leaves him. The oxygen mask is removed from his face as he turns and coughs up a scary amount of blood onto the table he’d been placed on. 

“ _Fitz!”_  

He feels the coppery liquid dribble out of his mouth and dazedly tries to keep his eyes trained on the only person in the room that actually matters. He does his best to smile but can’t even garner enough energy to do more than slightly quirk his lips before the movement causes him to cough again, blood flying to the floor and leaving him dizzy.

A slow fog begins to converge around him and he vaguely notes the sharp pinch he feels in his arm as his eyes flutter closed. He blacks out with Jemma’s voice in his ear and the sight of her pounding against the glass enclosure the last image in his mind. 

-O- 

“…seven months! We’ve been going crazy trying to figure out how to get you back. Fitz especially.” 

Skye’s voice cuts through the haze clouding his brain and Fitz tries to give some sort of indication that he can hear her when another voice snaps back at the other girl. 

“Yes well it’s not like I was just twiddling my thumbs mindlessly on the other side like some damsel in distress doing nothing to find a way home. I’ve been just as active trying to _get back._ ” 

Jemma’s voice is biting and Fitz can hear the same haunted undertones that he’d seen in her eyes earlier. Skye seems to pick up on the slight venom just as easily because she sucks in a sharp breath and launches into a hasty reply. 

“What?! No… that’s not… that’s not what I meant at all! Of _course_ whatever… whatever you’ve been through is _way_ worse than what we’ve dealt with on this end. I just… I just meant… we’ve missed you so much Jemma. It’s been… it hasn’t been good. It’s actually been really, _really,_ bad.” 

It’s silent for a few uncomfortable moments before he hears the slightly muffled voice come from someplace that seems miles away. 

“Why was he in the field Skye? What the _hell_ was he doing out there?” 

The words sound tremulous in Fitz’s ears, laced with confusion and a desperate need for information, and he wonders if Skye can really provide Jemma with the answers she’s looking for. Not likely considering that he’d kept everyone at bay over the past few months, not wanting to give anyone too close of a look at the thoughts that have been spurning him forward. 

“He’s… Jemma he’s _always_ in the field these days. _Any_ lead we’ve been able to find about that goddam rock… Fitz has followed. He’s barely slept, eats enough to feed a horse but that’s mostly because all he’s does is train when not working on ways to figure out how to open that thing.” 

“Someone should have taken care of him!” 

Jemma’s voice rings out in the room, despite the still muffled quality that Fitz now realizes is likely the result of the glass barrier separating her from the rest of the base, and Skye’s is just as clear when she responds. 

“Jemma we’ve _all_ been taking care of him. But… but there’s only so much you can get Fitz to do when the only person _he_ cares about is missing. You _know_ that you’ve always been his priority, since the very beginning, and the thought of you being in danger just made it that much more apparent. He… he blames himself… for what happened.” 

“ _What?!”_

“He’s watched the security footage a million times Jemma. It only took one viewing for him to realize that he accidentally opened the door to the case. I’ve _never_ seen him so… I don’t even know if there’s a word for it. But… it was about ten thousand times worse than when you were in Hydra because he wasn’t upset with _you_ he was upset with _himself._ Completely self-destructive… as if you couldn’t already tell.” 

If he had any control over his body, he’d cringe at Skye’s words. He supposes that the fact that he’s currently laying on a medical bed with who _knows_ how many injuries, sustained in what essentially _was_ a suicide mission, is a good enough indicator of the self-destructive behavior that Skye is hinting at. 

The room is silent again and Fitz wonders if he’s back in his own subconscious or if the two women actually _have_ stopped talking. Jemma’s cracking voice makes it pretty clear that he is still very much awake and in the present. 

“What _happened_ today? How… Skye _how_ did this happen to him? _Why?”_

The question is met with a sniffle and Fitz wishes that he had the ability to place a comforting hand on the crying Skye. 

“I don’t… I don’t know. We had a _plan_ Jemma. Same as we always do… but then he went off-book, same as _he_ always does. This… this time was different though. He shut off his comms and his monitor and just… just left. Went after the Inhuman we were tracking and tried to… God, I don’t even _know_ what he was trying to do. It’s never been so bad. It was like he just… he just…” 

“He gave up.” 

Jemma’s voice is soft but the words are a powerful blow that hurts Fitz more than any of those reigned down on him during his earlier scuffle with the Inhuman. He can hear the silent _on me_ that hadn’t audibly been tacked onto the end of Jemma’s sentence and wants to cry at the fact that she could ever believe such a thing. 

“Yeah Jemma… I think he did. Not on _you._ Fitz would _never_ give up on you but… I think… I think he just gave up on himself.” 

Fitz wants to hug Skye more than he ever has in his life when he hears her say the words that he’d be shouting at the top of his lungs if he had even one iota of strength. 

He hears a sniffle, a muffled one that can only mean it’s coming from Jemma, and wishes he could actually open his eyes or give some sort of indicator that he’s okay. That, yes, he’d given up on himself a bit but is now _here_ with _her_ and doesn’t plan on going anywhere for the foreseeable future. 

He hears the slide of the little box separating one side of the glass from the other, and then hears someone blowing their nose. The sound must mean that Skye had sent some tissues through the small contraption, and Fitz wonders if she’ll do the same for him when he becomes fully conscious and breaks down at the chance to actually speak with Jemma himself. 

It’s quiet for another moment, sniffling the only sound that echoes throughout the room, before Skye lets out an uncomfortable cough that Fitz _knows_ is a precursor to a difficult question. 

“Jemma… what happened to _you_?” 

It’s silent for a few long moments and Fitz knows that Skye won’t be getting answers anytime soon. Jemma’s speechlessness speaks volumes and it’s easy for him to piece together the fact that… whatever _did_ happen to Jemma, wasn’t anything that she’d be discussing anytime soon. His suspicions are confirmed when he hears the shaky sigh and the soft words that follow it.

“I… I’m not… I’m not ready to get into it right now. It’s… everything has been a bit overwhelming today. I wasn’t expecting to find myself back here and I _really_ wasn’t expecting to immediately be shepherded into this thing while…” 

She pauses with a shaky inhalation and Fitz waits patiently for her to continue. Skye is less patient than himself and she gently presses Jemma to continue. 

“While _what_?” 

“Your comms were open.” 

Jemma’s voice is soft and Fitz isn’t quite sure what she’s getting it until Skye responds in understanding. 

“Oh… _Ohhhh…_ so you heard…” 

“I heard my friends spend ten minutes asking if anyone knew where Fitz was and then I heard the person in question decide to finally join the conversation and mention in very few words that he’d been _shot._ ” 

“Jemma…” 

“Not exactly the first thing I wanted to hear upon returning home.” 

“ _God…_ ” 

“I just… I wasn’t prepared for that. I wasn’t prepared to hear it, let alone _see_ it, and I don’t really want to think about what I’ve… what I’ve gone through… what I _went_ through, when all I can focus on is the fact that my best friend coded in front of me and is now laying five feet away in a position that is uncomfortably familiar to me.” 

It doesn’t take a genius to understand what Jemma is alluding to and Fitz feels something twist in his gut as he flashes back to the _last_ time she’d been forced to watch him lay motionless in a hospital bed. 

“God Jemma, I didn’t even _think_ about…” 

A dismissive Jemma, who is _clearly_ done thinking about that particular visual, cuts off Skye before she can finish her sentence. 

“Yes well, it is what it is. The point I was trying to make is that right now, in this moment, I don’t want to talk about what I had to go through to come home to _this._ Today has been chaotic and confusing and I… all I want is to…” 

She pauses again and this time Fitz hopes that Skye’s impatience will once again spurn Jemma to finish her sentence. 

“To what?” 

 _Thank you Skye._  

“I just want to hug him.” 

A surge of warmth runs through Fitz and, while it’s logically the result of the very nice drugs running through his bloodstream, Jemma’s confession certainly plays a role. 

“It’s stupid, I know, but wherever I was… _whenever_ I was… it… it felt longer than 7 months and… I missed him. I’ve spent I don’t know how long… _literally_ , I don’t _know_ how long… imagining what it would be like to come back. To _find my way back_ and be reunited with everyone, to be reunited with _Fitz,_ and to just be _happy.”_

It’s silent again for a second and Fitz can imagine Skye nodding along to Jemma’s words in understanding.

 _“_ It’s one of the only things that got me through… everything. The image of Fitz waiting for me with open arms and a grin on his face and _maybe_ a few tears but… the good kind. You know? The _happy_ kind. Instead I got shoved into quarantine and was greeted with the sound of your voice screaming, ‘ _Fitz is down,_ ’ over the comms. _”_  

Skye exhales at this and he can hear an audible thump that sounds suspiciously like someone’s head making contact with a wall. 

“It was horrible Jemma. When we found him… it… it was _horrible._ I’m sorry you had to hear it. _”_  

There’s another sniffle at this before Jemma lets out a humorless chuckle. 

“The last time I saw him before that _thing_ took me away, he was asking me out to dinner, and the _first_ time I saw him after it brought me back, he was strapped to a gurney. Quite the juxtaposition, no?” 

“Jemma…” 

“I really don’t want to get into it Skye. Do… do you have any idea how much longer Coulson wants to keep me in here?” 

“I’ll go ask him. I’m sure you’ll be out of there in no time.” 

He hears Skye’s footsteps as they walk across the room and, when they stop suddenly, Fitz realizes that the other girl isn’t quite done just yet. 

“Jemma?” 

“Hmm?” 

“I’m really glad you’re back, and I know that the first thing you’ll want to do when you get out of there is check on Fitz but… I should warn you that the first thing you’ll _actually_ be doing is receiving a hug from me because I… I missed you.” 

Her voice cracks at the end of the sentence and it makes Fitz realize that it isn’t just _him_ who has been forced to live without Jemma during these past few agonizing months. Skye had been equally affected by the other girl’s absence, _especially_ after losing her mother and father in one fail swoop, and Fitz feels another pang of guilt at the realization that he’d almost taken himself out of her life as well. 

“I missed you too Skye.” 

Jemma’s voice is choked and Fitz can hear the raw emotion behind her words. It’s silent for another moment before Skye continues out the door, footsteps dimming as she walks away in search of Coulson. The silence is now overwhelming and Fitz is desperate for something to cut through the hollow quietness of the room. 

As if she can read his mind, something he’s actually pondered in the past, Jemma begins shuffling in her little enclosure before Fitz makes out the muffled sounds of a chair being pulled across the floor and a solid thud as she sits down in it. 

Fitz _swears_ he hears a soft, “Please wake up Fitz,” but he’s consumed by a darkness that he can’t fight as the drugs pull him under once again. 

-O- 

When Fitz wakes up again, he’s actually able to _wake up_ and squint his eyes against the bright fluorescent lights above him. He groans at the sharp pain that shoots through his head when the light hits his eyes. It’s not an experience he enjoys and he squeezes his eyes shut in an attempt to find a brief respite from the splitting headache. 

“Fitz?” 

His eyes fly open at the sound of his name and he blinks blearily at the silhouette that is hovering above him. It shifts slightly, blocking the light, and his eyes widen at the sight of Jemma’s face smiling tremulously down at him. Her eyes are red-rimmed and her face is sallow, but Fitz doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything quite so stunning. 

“Hi.” 

The one word combined with the soft smile she’s giving him causes Fitz to burst into tears. The wracking sobs make his already sore body ache but he can’t stop them and doesn’t really want to. He’s spent _months_ worried that he’d never see Jemma again, never hear her say, ‘Oh _Fitz,’_ in exasperation, and never get the chance to tell her over and over how important she is to him, and how _sorry_ he is that whatever hell she’d experienced was because of him.

He cries even harder when he realizes that he _will_ have a chance to experience all of the above, and is grateful for the steady stream of oxygen that is flowing through the tube attached to his nose. Jemma’s thumb is brushing across his forehead and Fitz can see that she seems to be crying just as hard as he is, albeit far more attractively. The tears are dripping silently down her face and she hiccups every few seconds as her hand continues to stroke almost reverently across his face. 

“Shh… It’s okay, it’s okay, I’m here.” 

Fitz sniffles at her words, tilting his head as best he can so that her palm is resting on his cheek, and looks at her in disbelief. 

“You’re here? You’re _really_ here?” 

Jemma lets out a watery chuckle at this and uses her free hand to wipe the tears off her face as she nods down at him. 

“I’m here Fitz.” 

His crying begins to slowly subside, sobs transforming into steady sniffles, and the two of them don’t speak as both seem to just bask in the knowledge that they’re together again. 

Fitz takes a moment to simply gaze up at her, to take in every detail he can before he inevitably drifts off again, and marvels at the fact that he lasted 7 months without her. Her presence seems to calm him instantly and, despite the broken bones and contusions, he suddenly feels invincible. He moves his head again, not caring that it causes a sharp pain to shoot into his very core, and drowsily nuzzles the warm hand that is still pressed to his face. 

“Good.” 

His eyes flutter closed once more and he’s asleep in an instant. 

-O- 

The next time he wakes up, it’s a far less dramatic and painful process. The bed he’s in is angled slightly and the lights in the room aren’t quite as blinding as they had been the last time he’d struggled to open his eyes. It’s easier this time around, he’s a bit more self-aware and a bit _less_ drug-addled, and Fitz immediately flits his eyes across the room in search of Jemma. 

She’s nowhere to be found and for one terrifying moment Fitz begins to panic, wondering if she’d once again been a mere figment of his imagination. The heart monitor next to his bed begins to beep erratically and the growing noise causes two people to appear seemingly out of nowhere. 

Skye and Jemma are standing in the doorway, breathing as though they’d just run a marathon, and are worriedly glancing around the room to figure out what’s caused the blaring of the machine. Their eyes simultaneously land on him and Fitz’s gaze immediately zeros in on Jemma.

She’s no longer in the sweats she’d been wearing earlier, now in a blouse that is far more like her, and, for the first time, Fitz is cognizant enough to notice that her hair is quite a bit longer than it’d been before she’d been sucked away by the Kree stone. 

When their eyes lock, Fitz lets a weary smile cross his face. The tension that seems to be radiating off of Jemma dissipates at his small quirk of the lips and a quavering smile of her own makes its way across her face as she makes _her_ way across the room and to his bedside. Her hand finds his in an instant and Fitz sighs in contentment at the feeling of her warm fingers tangling through his. 

“How are you feeling?” 

Her voice comes out in a whisper and Fitz wonders if that’s an indication of what time it is. Jemma had always tended to lower the decibel of her voice between the hours of midnight and six and he thinks this explains the almost eerie silence of the base. 

He can feel how scratchy his voice is but doesn’t let it stop him from responding to Jemma’s question with a few of his own. 

“Oh, I’m fine. How are _you_ feeling? Are you okay? Are you hurt? Where were you? How did you get back?” 

“Fitz!” 

His eyes shift to where Skye is looking at him in exasperation and blushes as he realizes that he’d just bombarded Jemma with questions that she’d already admitted she wasn’t ready to answer. 

He ducks his head as best he can and focuses his gaze on where his hand is tightly gripping Jemma’s atop the bed. “Sorry.” 

Jemma’s hand squeezes his once before her other reaches up and her fingers gently run over his face. “Don’t be.” 

It’s silent for a few moments, neither knowing quite what to say before Jemma’s hand tightens and she looks at him with watery eyes. 

“I was worried about you.” 

His mouth gapes open and he stares at her in shock as he tries to figure out whether she’d _really just said that._  

“You were worried about _me?!_ I watched you get eaten by a bloody _rock_!” 

Jemma’s eyes narrow at him and she looks as though she’s about to tug her hand away before she leans forward and shoots him a glare. 

“Well Iwatched you _die_ Fitz.” 

He can’t stop the eye roll and accompanying groan. He’s not ready to let her think that a couple of flesh wounds were more traumatizing to witness than his best friend slash love of his life getting sucked into a dark blob of doom. 

“It’s not a competition Jemma.” 

Jemma _does_ tug her hand away at this and she crosses her arms while looking down at him in a mix of fond annoyance and genuine exasperation. 

“Oh look who’s talking! Only _you_ Leopold Fitz, could make a more dramatic entrance than me getting spit out of an alien rock after spending 7ish months _on another planet_.” 

Fitz’s eyes widen at this and Jemma grins teasingly down at him while his mouth opens and closes as he tries to figure out how to respond to the bomb she’s just dropped. 

“You… you… another…” 

She moves her hand back into its rightful spot between his fingers and gives a small sigh as her eyes cloud over slightly. 

“We have a lot to talk about.” 

Fitz can only nod at her almost somber words and desperately tries to think of something he can say or do to take her away from the recesses of her mind; to bring her back to earth and back to him. He wants to make her smile so he spits out the last thing that brought a smile to her face before she’d been taken away. 

“Maybe… maybe we can talk about it over dinner?” 

It works. 

Her eyes clear and a slow grin makes its way across her face as she looks at him with a fondness that causes the heart monitor beside him to once again beep erratically. Jemma’s eyes flicker briefly to the device before she lets out a soft laugh and nods at Fitz’s tentative question. 

“I’m not sure you’ll be eating solid foods for awhile but… once you’re fully recovered… Yes Fitz, we’ll talk over dinner.” 

“Somewhere nice?” 

He doesn’t know why he feels the need to tack on the second question but he’d scarcely believed she’d agreed to dinner 7 months ago and, for some reason, he feels the need to get another confirmation that she realizes that he’s asking her on a _date._  

Jemma laughs again before affectionately rubbing her hand through his hair and rolling her eyes in her standard exasperation. “Yes Fitz… somewhere nice.” 

It’s silent for a few moments as they peer at each other, both processing the fact that they’re _together_ and will finally be getting their date, before a soft, “Awww…” echoes throughout the room and Fitz remembers that Skye is still standing in the doorway. 

He and Jemma both glance over at the other girl who has _actual_ tears in her eyes. Fitz is a bit startled by the sight but Jemma just smiles and whispers, “Happy tears,” under her breath as Skye nods her head in confirmation. The other girl quickly moves across the room, wrapping Jemma in what Fitz is sure is probably the hundredth hug of the night, before she turns to glower at him. 

“You and I _also_ have a lot to talk about Fitz. Namely what you should and _should not_ do while on a field mission. You know, like going off on your own, turning off your comms, and, oh I don’t know, _taking on an Inhuman by yourself.”_

Fitz slinks back into his bed and averts his gaze as he nods his head shamefully at Skye’s words, muttering another soft, “Sorry,” under his breath. 

“Yeah, you _better_ be sorry. Could you imagine what Jemma would have done to me if she found out I got you _killed_ the same day she finally found her way home?” 

Skye’s eyes are wide when Fitz glances up at her and his own grow in size when he notices Jemma just nodding her head at the other girl’s words. 

“It wouldn’t have been pretty.” 

Skye gives a small shudder at the seriousness in Jemma’s tone before giving Fitz a pointed look. He nods his head a bit faster, still pretty slow considering he’s high as hell and fairly constrained in the hospital bed, and tries to appear properly contrite. 

Skye stares at him for a moment before nodding herself and saying, “Good,” as she leans forward and places a chaste kiss to his cheek. 

She gives Jemma another hug before pulling away and conspicuously saying, “I’m going to give you two some privacy,” as she turns on her heel and walks out of the small room. 

Jemma watches Skye leave and Fitz watches Jemma. 

He stares at her in wonder and once again feels tears begin to prickle beneath his eyelids. She turns to face him again and she’s biting her lip in what Fitz knows to be one of her more obvious tells. 

“What?” 

She glances up at him and her nose wrinkles slightly as she shakes her head. “Nothing it’s… It’s nothing.” 

“ _What?_ ” 

She bites her lip again and her cheeks flush slightly as she sighs at his questioning look. 

“It’s stupid.” 

Fitz just stares her down until she relents. 

Jemma fiddles with his hand, not taking her eyes off of their entwined fingers as she mumbles, “It’s just… she… she kissed you before I did. I’ve been gone for 7 months thinking about… and she… I _told_ you it was stupid.” 

Fitz’s mouth opens slightly at this and his mind begins to whir as he repeats her bashful statement over and over in his head. 

“That’s not a big deal, Skye does that all the time.” 

Jemma’s eyebrows raise at this and she straightens slightly as she glances between Fitz and the doorway. “Oh really…” 

“Not like _that._ Besides, that _hardly_ qualifies as a kiss. If _anything_ it was more of a…” 

His sentence is cut off with the soft press of Jemma’s lips against his, and Fitz’s eyes widen before shutting completely. 

It’s not a movie kiss, not an earth-shattering make out session that hints at more, but it leaves him breathless all the same because of the assurance behind it. It’s the, ‘We’ll do this every day for the rest of our lives,’ kind of kiss that promises a future of bickering and making up; hand-holding and stolen glances; and kiss after kiss. It’s short, sweet, and essentially represents everything that Fitz has dreamed of since first realizing that he’d fallen for his best friend. 

Jemma pulls away with a blush and a soft smile that leaves Fitz in awe. He’s sure that his own face is bright red and can feel the way that his grin seems widen with each passing second. 

Jemma lets out a small cough and begins playing with his hand again as she avoids his gaze. Fitz doesn’t mind all that much because it simply provides him with another moment to study her, to note all of the ways she’s changed since he’d last seen her, and to try and figure out how they hell they’re going to work through whatever happened to her. 

He flips his hand over so his palm is facing the ceiling and struggles to fight the drowsiness. Jemma doesn’t hesitate to begin tracing patterns along his palm and, when she looks up and notices his sleepy smile, she leans forward and places another chaste kiss against his lips. 

“Get some rest Fitz. The sooner you recover… the sooner we have dinner.”

He smiles at her words and lets his eyes shutter closed as he realizes that, whatever Jemma had faced in the past few months, and whatever _they_ will face in the upcoming days, they’ll deal with together. 

As always.


End file.
